Castlevania: Epitaph For Man
by J.T. Fell
Summary: What if Mathias and Dracula was not the same person? In the years between Leon and Trevor Belmont, a power struggle erupts between two powerful vampires.


**C A S T L E V A N I A**

EPITAPH FOR MAN

The early 15th century – Much had changed in the world during the past four hundred years. A renewed interest of science, literature and learning in general was sweeping Europe. French art historians three hundred years later would come to call this period of change 'The Renaissance'. The 'Rebirth'.

Rebirth was a term Mathias could relate to. The body he now inhabited was nothing like it used to be. He gave up the warmth of his own flesh, indeed his soul, long ago. Mathias Cronqvist was a vampire. Lord of the Wampyr upon his throne.

His Kingdom was everywhere yet nowhere. Hidden deep in the wild Carpathian Mountains, his castle was the center of a vast Vampire Nation that spread the world over in secret. Their existence depended on secrecy and stealth. Avoiding the wrath of mankind was paramount, for Mathias new better than to underestimate the human spirit. He had made that gamble only once before, and he knew the remarkable strength that even one motivated individual could wield. The indomitable spirit of a single man had been able to destroy a powerful Vampire Lord…and play directly into Cronqvist's plans.

His damned plans. He was a tactician, after all. Strategy and manipulation was his business. In retrospect, however, it seemed he chose a permanent solution to a temporary problem. To abandon all humanity and the chance for salvation in the name of spite, to many, would seem excessive. That sentiment threatened to permeate even his own thoughts at times but would soon be flushed away by the same tangible hatred that had driven him to darkness. "Elisabetha…" he often murmured in a deep and mournful tone, with just a hint of disgust. It seemed too late, or at least beside the point, to realize that despite his clever defiance of God and nature, he was not vindicated.

To make matters worse, the inevitable sense of jaded weariness increased with each passing decade. King Mathias Cronqvist, Lord of the Vampires, Sovereign of the Darkness… was bored.

He often sat in deep thought like a statue: cold, unmoving, and breathless. In the time of his ascension to the throne he had seen no fewer than ten Crusades, perhaps even more. Holy warriors slaughtering themselves in the name of peace. In the name of God. He often wondered if the irony of their actions had even occurred to them. Mathias was always amused that his forces of darkness hardly had to lift a finger; the Light was doing a fine job of extinguishing itself.

Apparently mankind had indeed come to its senses. A new wave of humanism was crashing through every inch of Europe. Everywhere, it seemed, except the Carpathians. The people of this untamed region maintained an uncanny immunity to the illumination around them. Superstitious and fearful, they remained very much afraid of the dark. That was fine by Mathias.

One particular day, (he didn't know which one, he'd lost interest with dates years ago) one of his vampiric underlings entered the throne room and kneeled before him. "Master. We have the information you requested." With that, the vampire produced a scroll, tied with a red ribbon. Mathias took the parchment and skimmed its contents. "Very well. You are excused." The underling stood, bowed, and hastily exited. Mathias waited until the gilded doors of the throne room closed themselves before continuing to read. His white face glowed as his red lips curled into a smile. For years Mathias had been seeking a way to expand his empire beyond the frigid peaks and caves that served as his domain. Now he was certain he had his answer. The top of the page read: 'Treatise on Forced Reincarnation and Resurrection.'

With barely contained enthusiasm, Mathias stood and made his way down and across the long ramp of stairs that connected his chambers to the rest of the castle. Descending deeper and deeper into his labyrinthine fortress, he eventually arrived at his alchemy lab. Numerous tables were loaded with bottles and jars, some clanking together as their contents boiled over flames. The air was thick with fragrant smoke from an endless list of burning ingredients. Each experiment geared towards some maniacal end or another: one to see effects of the vampire curse on werewolf blood, one trying to find the exact nature of the screaming Mandragora. Mathias smiled again as he reached the far end of the lab. A cloaked figure stood bent over a pile of paper and mumbled. "Was our find to your liking, Master?" The figure said in a raspy voice as he turned to face his King, red eyes glowing from under the inky black of his hood.

"Indeed. From what little I read, I gathered that a vampire soul, if powerful enough, could be resurrected through a number of means."

"Yes." The cloaked one added. "No matter what method or how thorough the execution of said vampire is. Scatter his ashes or stake through the heart. He could still be brought back."

Mathias would have been intrigued by this premise regardless of its relevance. However, at the moment he saw an opportunity for direct application. "I have had a plan forming for quite a while." The King began. "Even though I wasn't sure what it could be, I knew there was just a single piece of the puzzle missing. You have done well, Master Archiver. We must begin work immediately."

Back in the personal loft of the Wamypr Lord, Mathias gathered his trusted servants and comrades. Chanting began as candles were lit and Mathias stood, bare-chested on a stone alter. Magical symbols adorned the walls and floor. Outside, nature seemed desperate to drown out the relentless hum of the vampire worshipers and caused thunder to crash as rain pelted the stone walls of the castle.

"This act I do in further defiance to God and his tyrannical egotism!" Mathias shouted above the drone and raised a ceremonial dagger. "As Death holds no dominion over me, neither shall the shackles of physicality!" After a final chant in a forgotten language Mathias plunged the dagger into his heart with a grunt. Blood spurted in an arch but evaporated before hitting the ground. The humming crescendo grew nearly deafening before abruptly climaxing into silence. The body of the Vampire King lay sprawled on the altar. Slowly, the wound housing the dagger began to smoke, and with a final shudder, the dead again corpse dissipated. The dagger's clank echoed throughout the chamber as it fell to the marble floor.

Death began to cackle from his place above the altar. Spreading his black and tattered wings he passed through the ceiling, flying with utmost speed over the mountains and out of site. His shadow had long faded over the horizon before his laughter could no longer be heard.

Soon, the King of Hungary welcomed a new son into the world. The child's mother insisted his name be Mathias. King John was a bit taken back by her unwavering resolve, but granted his wife's wishes. The bath matrons noted the child's odd demeanor from the very first moments of his life. His skin was always cold, yet he never shivered. His skin remained pallor no matter how long he was exposed to the sun. And some could even sense a strange aura about the boy.

As he grew older he proved himself very astute and was well beyond normal intelligence. Many marveled at his outstanding chess playing and understanding of military strategy. His eyes practically glowed with inner strength and he was famous for his knowing grin.

His mother was the only one that he seemed to confide in, and she in turn seemed to respect her son beyond basic maternal love. Some reported her bowing as she made her leave from him. Others insisted that, as the boy aged, she began to act almost fearful of her son.

Soon his father died and he was made King of Hungary. He was fifteen years old, and the plans he had set in motion over fifty years ago came to fruition. Mathias Cronqvist, one time ruler of the damned and exiled, was now leader of human nations. More years passed and he showed his skill as a tactician on the battlefield many times. Eventually word reached him of the deeds of one of his vassals, one Vlad III Dracula.

Mathias was intrigued by the Prince of Wallachia's methods. "Tepes" his people called him. The Impaler. Indeed no one seemed safe from Vlad's wrath. Liars, thieves, and criminals were impaled along with foreign merchants, nobles and unwed mothers. It was even said that Dracula had a dinner table set up among his forest of the dead, that he might enjoy the fruits of his labor. A kindred soul if ever there was one. After not much deliberation, Mathias decided to journey to meet this bloodthirsty voivode.

His welcome was as civil as could be expected. The impaled victims of Dracula lined the road ways and rivers, serving not only as a warning to would-be transgressors, but as evidence of the demented mind of Wallachia's ruler. It was fairly obvious that Vlad got some perverse enjoyment out of his victim's torture. That only solidified Mathias's respect of the man.

The carriage eventually arrived at the Castle Dracula, which was also adorned with the gruesome decorations.

"Mathias Cronqvist!" Shouted his herald. Mathias loathed the formality but allowed the herald to spout off the minute long introduction without interruption. Finally the drawbridge lowered and the carriage trotted into the courtyard.

"We are humbled by your presence." Vlad Tepes announced as he greeted his royal guest. "A feast is being prepared in your honor. After you rest, would you care to join us?"

Mathias held up a hand. "That will not be necessary. I'm well rested as it is, and I am not hungry. If you don't mind I would like to meet with you in private."

Vlad stood silent for half a moment, examining his guest. "Very well. Of course, as you wish." The two departed and came to the inner sanctum of Dracula. A giant red cross adorned with a dragon, wings outspread, hung on the wall over a large table. Matthias recognized the emblem.

"The Order of the Dragon has been very successful as of late, has it not?" Mathias asked as he sat.

"Indeed." Vlad answered, not hiding his pride. "We have held the Turks off for the time being. I fear they are planning something however, and my spies have been…" he paused "Ineffectual."

Of course Mathias knew that meant that they had failed to uncover anything definite, and as a result, were added to the impaled menagerie on the front lawn. "I see. I do know for a fact that there is an army amassing on the banks of the Danube, Vlad." Mathias grinned. "They are too many. You will not survive if you stay."

Vlad strained to contain his anger at the insinuation of weakness. "We are more than prepared to defend ourselves. Assuming they have the stomach to attack." This he said with a gleam in his eye.

"Ah yes, I was told of your beautification project on both sides of the River. You honestly think that will hold them off?"

"It has worked so far. For all their ferocity, they cannot bare the sight of their own; stuck like pigs on a spit. They will flee at the first glance."

Mathias shook his head. "Vlad Dracula, you are a brave and powerful man. But you are also a fool. I offer my help. I can give you power beyond measure, and it will be far more effective than dead prisoners on a stick."

At being called a fool, Dracula's blood boiled. The only thing that was staying his hand was the rank of his guest. Had he been an emissary or any other noble, Mathias would have seen the end of a pike by now. Vlad swallowed his rage and stood. "My methods are my own. I have defeated dozens of Turkish armies, and have maintained law and order throughout my realm. I am no fool, and I am in no need of your help. Now if you will excuse me…" Vlad stormed out of the room.

Mathias smiled. Indeed this man was a kindred spirit. He had made the offer of power and no one but the most confident would have rejected it. When the time came for him to return to his true kingdom in the mountains, Mathias would bring his new protégé with him. Whether or not said protégé liked it. Mathias returned to his coach and left Dracula to dwell on his words.

As Mathias had predicted, a Turkish army swept through the land, not two weeks after his visit. Town after town fell before the Ottomans' might. At the gates of Castle Dracula, battle raged. Flaming arrows rained over the walls in both directions. Vlad stood in his tower looking down at the carnage with a scowl. Outside in the hall screams echoed. They had penetrated his fortress and were coming after him. Suddenly the door began to thud as Turkish warriors slammed against it. Dracula contemplated staying to fight for a moment, but turned and climbed up his furniture to a secret door in the ceiling. He got to the roof, lowered the hatch and locked it. Again the thought of hiding up on the tower for while hit him. He could stay a few hours, maybe a day or two, then climb back down and slay the lot of them in their sleep. No. Escape was the only option. He climbed across the tower's roof to another hatch. He opened it and dropped down into the narrow hollow space he had built in the walls as a secret path out of the castle. The dark passageway sloped downward, spiraling around the tower. For what seemed like an eternity he trudged through that long channel, trying to keep his footing on the slimy, wet stone steps.

Hours later, in the total dark, he bumped into a wall in front of him. No, not a wall but a door. The door that led to the underground passageway running the length of the outer wall. From there the passage opened through a cave deep in the forest beyond the castle. Exhausted, he stumbled out of the cave. He made his way as quickly and quietly through the forest as possible. It was night by the time he reached a lonely cottage on the other side of the woods.

He flung open the door and collapsed inside. A man and his wife ran to the stranger and helped him to a chair. Even with his hair and beard matted with mud and grime, they recognized their liege. "How can we serve you?" The terrified man managed.

"Get me a horse…" Vlad growled.

Weeks later in Hungary, Mathias was in one of his self-induced trances of thought when he got the word. Vladimir III Dracula had escaped and had come calling. Delighted, the King allowed Dracula in. "My, aren't you resourceful?" Mathias clapped as Dracula stumbled in.

"I…was attacked." Vlad said, trying to conceal his fatigue.

"Yes I know. They won't have much to work with from what I hear. You enacted something of a scorched earth policy, didn't you?" Mathias stood and walked next to his guest. "We will speak of these things later. Allow me to show you to your accommodations." He nodded to two armed guards and they seized Vlad by the arms. "Take him."

"What is this?" Dracula barked in rage. "What are you doing?"

"See that he is treated gently. I will be there shortly to deal with him." Mathias returned to his throne.

"The King commanded that you stay here." One of the guards stated in a flat tone as he escorted Vlad. To his surprise the guard did not take him to a cell or the dungeon, but one of the posh guest rooms. The guard closed the door and there came the click of a bolt fastening. Vlad sat on the bed, confused, and angry.

Not long had passed before there was a knock at the door. The door slowly opened and Mathias glided in. "My apologies for the lack of an explanation earlier." He said as he sat a large tray of food and wine before his prisoner. "It is sad that everything cannot be done with the grace and civility I would prefer."

"Why am I a captive?" Vlad asked.

Mathias feigned offence. "Why, Vlad, you wound me. Look around you. You are no captive. You may leave whenever you choose."

"Then I choose now."

"Oh? And where would you go? Back to Wallachia? Your home is Ottoman territory now you know that. And there are no more villages to hide in, your decree saw to that."

"I refuse to sit and do nothing!"

"My friend. I wouldn't dream of putting your talents to waste. I hear that you dabble in alchemy. Is this true?"

"I don't see any relevance…"

"Because, you see, I too am a student of the art. I find the inner workings of our cosmos quite interesting. Don't you?"

Vlad snarled. "I search for anything that might give me greater power."

"Then why did you scoff at my offer of power beyond measure?"

"How is it that you have power to bestow? What are you but another man? Why do you think you have anything I would need?"

Mathias chuckled. The more he spoke with this man the more he liked him. "What am I but another man?" Mathias drew his sword. Vlad got ready to defend until he saw Mathias flip the weapon, pointing the blade at himself. "Take this sword and strike me." He said offering the sword. "Or are you afraid of the consequences?"

Vlad burned inside. He had suffered more than enough of Mathias's disrespect to warrant killing him a hundred times. In a blink Dracula had the sword in hand and thrust deep into Mathias's belly.

Mathias remained standing and grinned. "You see. I am not another man."

Vlad pulled out the blade and made for another swing. Mathias held up a hand and froze the enraged and undaunted Dracula in place.

"You are a demon!" Vlad growled through clenched teeth.

"True enough I suppose." Mathias released his mental grip on his guest and Vlad dropped to his knees, defeated. "But I can grant you these powers, and more."

"Make me like you…" Vlad sighed.

Mathias took the sword and slit his wrist. "Take this and feel the power come into you." He took Vlad's head and pushed it to his bleeding vein.

Vlad put his mouth to the wound and allowed the coppery liquid to flow into his mouth. The taste of blood was not new to him, but somehow this felt different. He felt the blood hit his stomach. Heat swept through his veins and his senses heightened. It no longer tasted bitter and metallic, but sweet. He couldn't get enough.

Mathias had to yank his wrist away before Vlad would let go. "You have just taken the first step in your transition." He held his arm up to allow Vlad to see the wound seal itself up and vanish.

Vlad coughed, still reeling from the new sensations in his bones. "What else must I do?"

"The only way to truly defy God and obtain immortality is to die. Once your body dies to this weak world, its laws and physics, you are cut free from the chains that bind you."

"Then kill me now!" Vlad said standing straight and proud.

"No. The time is not right. Your time will come to you when God sees fit, however God will be disappointed." Mathias stretched out a hand. "In the meantime, you have much to learn."

Over the next four years Mathias instructed the Prince in ways of alchemy, Death, and vampirism. About the strengths he would wield and weaknesses by which he would be bound.

The time came that Vlad was to be returned to Wallachia. Under false pretenses, he was afforded the aid of the Pope, and other allies, to take back his castle in Wallachia. Soon he was returned to his throne, and the world was none the wiser.

Vlad did his best to lead his life as he always had. He went into battle and killed in the name of God and country. He fought with a renewed vigor and bloodlust, no longer caring if we were struck down, knowing that his power would only increase. In all he did, the promise of life-after-death lead his thoughts.

Finally came the day when his wishes were fulfilled. The Turks had launched an attack and Wallachia's defenses were too thin. Vlad destroyed many but soon fell in combat. Some say that it was a mighty Turkish warrior that landed the final blow. Others insist that is was one of his own, by accident or intent. Whatever the circumstances, Vlad III 'Tepes' Dracula, Son of the Dragon, Prince of Wallachia, was dead.

As a sign of victory, Vlad's decapitated head was sent to the Sultan where he displayed it on a pole for all to see. It wasn't a week before the head went missing.

He awoke to the sound of chanting and the smell of candles burning. "Where am I?" Vlad sat up and looked around the dark room. A dozen robed figures sat in a circle around an occult symbol drawn on the floor. "What is this madness?"

Mathias stepped from the shadows. "Do you not remember? You were struck down, but yet you remain.'

"Yes. It is returning to me now." Vlad then noticed he had been placed on an altar, and blood had been poured down his throat. "I was slain"

"My dear Dracula. Now is our finest hour." Mathias reached out and helped Vlad to his feet. "As far as the world knows, you have been dead for eight days and nine nights. Now is the time to strike; while their guard is down."

"Yes! The Turks will know full well the wrath of Dracula!"

"Why just the Ottomans, Vlad? Come now, where is your ambition?" The pair walked over to a large window over looking the harsh Carpathian ridges. "Together, we can make the entire world bow to us. Think of it! All of God's creation will recognize our authority."

"How so?" Vlad looked over at the still chanting congregation. "Enough of that! Be gone!" Dejected and fearful, the mass filed quickly out of the chamber. Vlad turned back to the window. "We haven't the means to challenge the world's armies."

"Not all at once, no." Mathias grinned as he signaled Vlad to follow. "Why do you think I have been instructing you in the dark arts?" They came to a balcony over looking a court yard. "Gaze upon the device of our supremacy!" Below, on the gray stone floor of the courtyard, stood a contingent of skeletons; each armed and standing at attention. "This is but a trifle." Mathias said with passion. "We will summon forth worse things, from darker realms than our own, to carry out our cause. And we will start with Wallachia." A moment later, a lean figure strode across the yard and came to attention in front of the undead soldiers. "And here is your chief lieutenant now!" Mathias motioned for the tall figure to come up to the balcony.

The lieutenant crouched and leaped high into the night, above the balcony. He then glided, as if he weighed nothing, to where Vlad was standing. Dracula could not believe his eyes. "Adrian?"

"Your son has also been advancing very well in his studies." Mathias chuckled. "He can even hold his own against me is chess."

"He is like us! How?" Vlad's mind was reeling. Adrian's mother had been burned at the stake as a witch years before; an event that only aided in Dracula's growing hatred for mankind. From then on he vowed that no blood of his would ever be harmed again by the tainted ego of men. Mathias, of course, was privy to Dracula's plight.

"Vlad, you must try harder to regain your wits." The Dark Lord patted Adrian on the shoulder. "One of the requirements of your turning was half of your son's soul on the occasion of your earthly death. How this has slipped your mind, I have no idea."

"You never told me!" Vlad's instant rage plummeted to grief as he gazed on his son's face. Once red and vibrant, now cold and grey as stone. "Adrian. Please believe me. I never would have…"

"All is well Father." Adrian held up a hand. "I lived in fear most of my life. Now… now I feel free and powerful. For that, I thank you…"

"Very good!" Mathias said with a clap. "Now that we are in agreement…" He turned and bared his fangs. "We have a world to destroy."

Aided by his evil underlings, the Count reclaimed his castle and made it the base of his power. Soon the castle was as infected with darkness as Dracula's very soul. Thus it began. The hordes of Dracula swept through Romania with little opposition. Evil spread like a plague, infecting man and beast alike. The Dead rose from their mounds as large bats and crows swarmed above. One by one the villages and cities of Europe toppled under the clout of the sinister invaders.

The forces of good were not idle, however. It was clear that the darkness was too powerful to resist and, as desperation increased, petty differences were set aside. Thus, a coalition of Christianity's head leaders, lead by the Pope, convened in the Vatican to discuss the next course of action. It was decided that faith alone was not enough. Mercenaries, exorcists, and even those practicing the taboo arts were hired and sent to battle Dracula's horde. None returned.

Pleased, Dracula sat in the throne room of his Demon Castle. "It is only a matter of time. Adrian." He said to his son. "Soon every single wretch on this sphere will succumb to our power." Adrian furrowed his brow. "What troubles you, Adrian?"

"Just thoughts on the campaign, Father. Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He tuned and started out of the room. "Just a minor detail I need to see to…"

"Things are progressing well, Vlad." Mathias said as he glided into the throne room. As Adrian passed, they exchanged a look. Mathias approached Dracula and leaned in close. "I sense a strange emotion from your son, Vlad. But I cannot place it."

"He is a good commander, but his mind is troubled with the weight of responsibility." Dracula stood. "He will adjust."

"It is my hope that he does." The two began walking. "The mortals have gotten more brazen, Vlad. Were you aware that a band of rebels had made it into the castle yesterday as you slept?"

"Yes, Mathias." Dracula growled. "They were routed and I have seen that their leader has received proper punishment." He grinned. "He now guards the Clock Tower."

"Clever as ever, Vlad." Mathias was not amused. "You need to maintain your focus. I fear such power has clouded your good judgment. You should have killed the rebel first, then reanimated him as a slave."

"I know what I am doing Mathias." Dracula stopped and faced his creator. "While you were hiding in caves and secret castles, I was on the battlefield. I know how to wage war."

"Indeed," growled Mathias. "Just be careful against whom you wage it." With that he dissolved into mist and vanished. Dracula stood alone.

Adrian descended into his personal chambers. That night he witnessed a woman burned to embers during the raid he had led. Her screams echoed through the streets as the flames consumed her and the baby in her arms. Before, the battles he had fought were against soldiers and warriors. They were grown men with hatred and desperation in their eyes. He had never led an attack on civilians. It did not sit well with him. When his father, and later Mathias, had told him about the evil ways of men, he was not inclined to argue. He watched his own mother burned at the stake due to man's ignorance. There hadn't been a drop of evil blood in the woman's veins; she was able to see the good in Vlad Tepes for God's sake. Yet they killed her. Mankind.

Even as he sat in dark silence the details of that night rang in his mind. The laughs and shouts of the men. The lights of their torches and the look of fear on his mother's face. Except it wasn't his mother. It was the woman and her child. The raging throng with torches was not human, but undead and demonic.

"What have I become…" Adrian covered his face and wept bloody tears. That night, Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes vanished from the halls of the Demon Castle of Dracula.

A year later, most of Europe was bathed in blood and darkness. Castlevania was the uncontested capital of the Western world.

"Vlad." Mathias said licking his lips and dropping the limp body of a young Bavarian woman to the floor. "It is time we concentrated on a loose end that has been pressing on my mind."

"I know what end you are speaking of." Dracula sat down at a long table. They were in the dusty, old banquet hall of the Castle Keep, the highest point of Castlevania. "The ones with whom your curse is linked. The Belmonts."

"Yes." Mathias also took a seat. "I am most surprised that one of them has not arisen yet. This, compounded with the desertion of your son, weighs heavily in my thoughts."

"As I have said before: Adrian has not deserted us." Vlad growled. "But you have not told me much of these Belmonts."

"A Belmont was my friend once." Mathias said in a dreamlike tone. "He was there when I first received my dark gift. I offered him the same power I offered you." He looked at Dracula. "He refused. As you did."

Dracula sneered. "Then he did not know the extent of that power."

"He knew." Mathias couldn't help but smile. "He knew better than I." After a pause Mathias cleared his head of the reverie. "At any rate, that man swore that his bloodline would forever hunt me and my kind. I doubt time has eroded that resolve."

"And you actually fear them?" Dracula laughed. "What is it about a single family of men that would fill you with such trepidation?

Mathias squinted and shook his head. "Leon Belmont was the finest man to tred this spoiled Earth. His heart was pure, his mind clear. When evil deeds befell him, he reacted with righteous intent. His curse was the very definition of sincerity."

"Next you will be telling me he could walk on water. Turn stone to bread." Dracula scoffed. "We will martyr his descendants as we have every other so called 'holy warrior'."

Mathias stood. "When the son of Belmont arrives in this castle, and he will arrive, you will find fear is not an emotion that is lost to even those such as us."

"When, and if, such a man does arrive I will taste his dread. And you will see that mankind is nothing to be feared."

"You dare instruct me on these matters? Vlad, your ability to remain so ignorant after all this time is astounding."

Dracula slammed his hands against the table as he stood, causing the cobwebs around the room to shutter. "Mathias! It is you who is ignorant if you think I will stand for such insults!"

"You shall stand, sit, beg or roll-over for such insults if I command it, Vlad. Remember your place." Mathias said coolly as he turned away.

Dracula's eyes glowed with rage. "My memory has just returned." He sprang across the table towards Mathias.

"Such a fool." Mathias glided to the side, out of Dracula's path, and swung down with a mighty fist into his attacker's spine. Keeping impeccable posture, he slid back to allow Vlad room to stand. "Let that be all, Vlad."

"No. This is my castle, and I will no longer tolerate disrespect. You will finally learn the wrath of Vlad Dracula!" His fangs grew and his eyes burned. The ancient shutters on the windows swayed as a strong breeze began circling through the room.

Mathias sighed. "Must we do this now, Vlad? It is a waste of time and energy." His plea was cut short as Dracula unleashed three balls of fire. He straightened his fur-lined cape and glided slightly to the side again to evade. "Your aim will have to improve if you want make any use of that trick, my friend."

"Quiet!" Dracula shouted as he gathered his strength and vanished in a flash of dark energy. Mathias turned in anticipation of the next move. With another flash of energy, Dracula appeared. Without a second to gather his wits, Dracula was sent flying back by an invisible mental punch. Smashing into the night air through the Keep's heavy doors, he rolled down the perilous flight of stairs leading to the Keep from the Clock Tower. As he struggled to his feet, he looked back up the stairs to see Mathias effortlessly gliding through the demolished doors, bathed in a sinister red glow.

"We can continue this as long as you like, Vlad." Mathias's voice seemed to echo even through the gusting wind. Slowly he descended the stairs.

Dracula muttered a few archaic words and held out his hands. After a brief sparkle of energy, a long spear materialized in his hands. "We will continue until you are dead!"

"Tsk-tsk." Mathias shook his head. "T'is a shame to see such talent wasted. So be it." Mathias glided down, cape blowing violently. Dracula trudged upward to meet him. As they met, Dracula thrust his spear at Mathias's chest only to have it swatted away. In the same motion, Mathias grasped Dracula's throat and lifted him as if he were weightless.

Dracula looked down his opponent's arm and into his eyes. Mathias didn't look angry. He looked like he was enjoying the 'fight'. However, through the red glow, Dracula noticed an even brighter glimmer coming from around the large red jewel around his neck. The battered vampire didn't have long to ponder the strange swirl of energy within the gem.

After delivering a swift punch to the face, Mathias tossed Dracula over his shoulder to the top of the flight, and through the shattered doors. Dracula slammed into the floor and slid through the banquet room, finally coming to a halt in his throne room. No sooner was Dracula back on his feet than Mathias floated in.

"No. Don't bother." Mathias held out a hand and motioned downward. Dracula froze, and slammed into the black marble floor, unable to move. Mathias calmly kneeled down next to his defeated colleague. "Try harder, Vlad." He whispered in Dracula's ear. Without a sound, he stood and vanished.

Dracula grunted as the effects of the paralysis spell wore off. He proudly stood, defiant as ever, and dusted off his ornate breast plate. Fatigued in ego rather than body, he flopped down into his throne. Damn Mathias, damn him. So proud. So smug. And yet scared of a clan of mortals. He was no longer fit to rule the night yet too powerful to overthrow. Then the image of that glowing stone around Mathias's neck came to mind. It throbbed and shimmered with power, it was not just a mere bauble. The answer, he knew, was easy enough to find.

"Master!" A high pitched voice rang as Dracula walked into the study room. It was in his, seemingly endless, personal library of tomes and scrolls amassed through the generations and most were arcane in nature. "What brings you to the Long Library, my Lord? And how may I serve you?" The wizen figure of the Librarian limped and bowed at Dracula's feet. Dracula had placed him in charge of cataloging every page in the library after hearing how well Mathias's own Archiver had served him long ago.

Dracula absorbed the moment. "Return to your desk Librarian. I have a task of utmost importance."

"Name it and it shall be done."

"That red stone Mathias wears around his neck. What is it?"

The Librarian shuttered. "It is a very ancient and powerful artifact. It is the Crimson Stone."

"Fine." Dracula sat in the padded chair on the opposite side of the desk. "What is so important about the Crimson Stone?"

The Librarian held up an open hand. At that moment, somewhere in the vast labyrinth of volumes a single book slid from its place high on a shelf. It weaved through the rungs of a ladder, around the corner and plunged past three stories of bookshelves and through the door of the study. In only a few seconds after raising his hand, the Librarian caught the book and opened it. "Most what can be known is in this book." He turned a few pages. "The stone was created with alchemy. The darkest from of the art, in fact."

"I am not new to the concepts of alchemy," Dracula leaned back. "Tell me something useful."

The librarian skimmed through a few pages. "The stone channels vampiric souls and contains them. Dissects them, drains their power; and in turn injects that power into the wielder of the stone. Whosoever possesses the Crimson Stone holds in his hands the Curse made tangible."

Dracula sneered. "If that is true, then who would have made such a thing?"

"Ancient alchemists in search of eternal life. In a way they were successful." He smiled. "Even more fascinating is the names of those alchemists." He looked up at Dracula and spoke solemnly. "Cronqvist."

Dracula stood. "It makes sense now. Who wrote that book?"

The old man looked. "No name is given."

Dracula snatched the tome from the desk and stared at the flowing script of the author. It was handwriting he knew too well. "Impossible. Mathias wrote this. Why would he risk writing such details?"

The Librarian shrugged. "The book was among the crates of books brought here from Master Mathias's castle during your living years. For your period of learning. Has he not mentioned any of this to you before?"

Dracula slammed the dusty book. "This is too convenient. But too vital to ignore."

"Is there another way I might serve you, Lord?"

"Yes." Dracula whispered. "Never mention this meeting. You are to forget it ever happened. Am I understood?"

"Of course, Master."

Dracula closed his eyes and vanished. When he opened his eyes, he was in his Keep. He began pouring through the heavy volume. It was all there. Mathias recounted, in detail, the death of his beloved and his desperate search for a way to bring her back through alchemy. How his hatred for God festered and his resentment towards his friend's happiness intensified. It went on to tell of the discovering of his family's lost relics, including the Crimson Stone and how he manipulated Leon and the vampire Walter to reach his own vile goal. How he became a vampire lord. But something wasn't right. Dracula studied, and cross referenced for several nights while locked inside his Keep. Finally he noticed what didn't fit.

Mathias wasn't a true vampire. He had the powers and weaknesses. He had the traits and appearance. But he never partook of the Blood Gift. He did die by his own hand to be reborn in a more resent time, but he already had the Crimson Stone. Death only transferred a mortal soul from one immortal body to another. Without the stone, Mathias was just a man. Dracula smiled.

He knew now why Mathias never put himself at risk. Why he stayed aloof and secluded in his mountain fortress. Why his visits to Castlevania were brief and sporadic. Now it was time to prepare.

Mathias silently strode through the cold halls of his Carpathian palace. He was pleased. He knew Vlad would have made a bid for power sooner or later. It was just the kind of man he was. He also knew that being beaten would only serve to focus his efforts more. Channel his anger into growing stronger. It was the only way he would be ready when the Belmonts arrived. Mathias would have to hold his own against his apprentice until then. He had stayed away from the Demon Castle for nearly a month to give Vlad ample time to improve on his own; he didn't want to distract him. So far everything was going according to plan. He fingered the large gem around his neck and smiled.

Nights later, while musing, one of Mathias's undead servants raced into his throne room. "Master. Most urgent news from Castlevania."

Mathias sat silent for a moment with a furrowed brow. "Tell me."

"A man has began fighting Lord Dracula's minions to the North. His name is Belmont."

Mathias could've sworn he felt a flush of heat in his skin at the mention of that name. The time was at hand. After hearing the rest of the message, he departed for Castlevania.

Dracula too was in his throne room when he received word that Mathias had arrived. At that moment the large double doors to the room flung open. Mathias stormed through.

"Why are you not up preparing? Belmont is already making his way towards this location. You need to be ready."

Dracula stood and straightened the black cape he had begun to wear instead of his battle armor. "I am ready. More than you realize."

Mathias was shook his head. "For once, Vlad, listen to reason. This man could very well ruin everything if we do not work together." He rushed over to one of the dusty windows of the Keep and looked down into the night. "If you relocate most of your local forces to the village adjacent to the perimeter walls, we can slow him down enough for my demons to get into place. Then, we can flee to my citadel as he wastes time battling through Castlevania. After he has reached the Keep, exhausted and wounded, you command the castle to collapse on top of him. The castle can rebuild itself, and from then on we can go on knowing that nothing will able to challenge us again."

Dracula listened patiently. "That is quite the plan, Mathias. Running and hiding as usual." He removed his cape. "I have a better plan."

Mathias turned to face him. "What are you talking about? We do _not_ have time for this Vlad! That man is getting closer each second. They are relentless. They will not stop. Do you understand me Vlad?"

"I understand that you are pathetic. You have merely survived this long through manipulation and cowardice. Through concealment rather than strength."

Mathias's eyes blazed. "And you have merely survived this long by my good graces. A luxury, might I remind you, that I could revoke at any moment!"

"You can't kill me Mathias. You need me to confront the Belmont for you. You can't face him yourself."

Mathias looked out the window and then back at Dracula. "Vlad, you overstep your bounds. Need I remind you of what happened last time?"

Dracula stepped towards Mathias. "Would you please? Just this once more." With that, he flung three fireballs from hands; this time with better aim. Mathias made a parting gesture with his arms and deflected the flames. The familiar red aura around Mathias began to get brighter. He rose off the ground and charged.

With impossible speed, Dracula leaped over Mathias, grabbed him by his long black hair, and flung him into a marble column. Mathias took no time in regaining his posture. As he stood chucks of broken marble around him lifted and soared through the air at Vlad.

Dracula nimbly dodged most of the stony projectiles, but one large chunk hit him square in the chest and sent him sprawling. In a blink Mathias was on top him, pulling him up by the throat. "I suppose you'll never learn." Mathias said as he squeezed. Dracula began to laugh. "What exactly do you find so funny?"

"How easy it was." Dracula managed through his crushed windpipe.

Mathias looked confused. Until he saw the object in Dracula's hand. There on the end of a broken gold chain, the Crimson Stone swayed. Mathias dropped Dracula and felt around his neck in disbelief. "How…" Then the moment when Dracula had leaped over him to grab his hair replayed in his mind.

"You should have never given me your book."

"My book? I never gave you my book!" Mathias choked. The tome in which he had written his secrets had been kept in his personal study. Why, he hadn't even been in that part of the castle since… "No."

"Mathias my friend, you look flushed." Dracula said through a sharp grin as he fastened the stolen necklace around his collar.

Mathias didn't hear him. He was trapped in his own memories. Memories of the four year period when he was teaching a still human Vlad Dracula the dark arts. At the same time that Vlad was being held in one part of the castle, he had brought young Adrian to another. There, in Mathias's personal study, the boy was taught. He would leave Adrian for hours, sometimes a day, by himself as he studied. "Adrian."

"What about Adrian?" Dracula growled as he approached the diminishing Mathias.

"H-he stole my book…" Mathias whispered with a far away look. He had been out maneuvered; out smarted. For the first time, Mathias Cronqvist had been defeated.

Dracula's laugh echoed through the Keep. "Such a good son." Slowly, he drew his sword and placed a hand on Mathias's shoulder. "What are you but another man?" He whispered as he thrust lightly into Mathias's belly. Mathias whenced. "You see," Dracula said into his ear, pushing in deeper. "You are not the only one that can manipulate." He stepped back and allowed Mathias to crumple to the floor, bleeding. Wiping the blood from the blade with his cape, he kicked Mathias onto his back. "Oh, and I thought you should know," He sheathed his sword. "Belmont wasn't really on his way…"

Mathias coughed a bloody glob onto his chin, and died.

Death materialized above his former master's body. "He was long overdue." He said with clacking jaws. "God has a special place in Hell for Mathias Cronqvist."

"Of that I'm sure." Dracula sat in his throne.

"He was right however; Belmont will come."

"Of that, too, I have no doubts. But let him come. Let him bring an army!"

Death nodded, picked up Mathias's corpse, and vanished.

"Let him come…"

THE END


End file.
